It Takes a Village
by wordsaremyescape
Summary: He should know nothing but happiness. He should be floating on new confidence knowing that he put a stop to the one man intent on robbing him of everything that made living bearable. And still, the twist in his heart was nothing he would ever be able to untangle. No matter how beautiful a gift he'd been given, to hold his heart, it first had to be broken beyond repair.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So…This one's been eating at me for a while now. I finally decided to put pen to paper so to speak, just to see what happens.**

 **Disclaimer: All rights to Criminal Minds belong to its rightful owners. I'm just looking to borrow these lovely characters for entertainment only.**

* * *

For a guy who survived hundreds of explosions and gunshots over the years, nothing was more deafening to Derek than the sound of a dozen blazing hospital monitors. If he wasn't so focused on Savannah's peaceful expression, his head would be ducked as he covered his ears to block out the noise. Now all he could do was sit in a damn corner while they rallied around his wife trying like hell to stop a spontaneous bleed.

 _My fault_. There was no way this could rest on anyone but him. His work with the BAU had gotten her shot and put their baby in paralyzing danger. He'd been taken off the case for obvious reasons; emotional involvement. As much as he respected his team, his family, there was no question he would be the one to find and end this son of a bitch. Hotch had done it and aside from the odd nightmare (which each of them got from time to time anyway), he turned pretty okay. Granted, the widowed father hadn't cracked more than a dozen smiles in all the years that he knew him. But Derek could do it. He _had_ to do it. Look this bastard in the eye and put a bullet right through his jacked up head. A successful mission in his book. Surgery went well, the baby was good. And Savannah had fallen into a much needed sleep. Everyone was fine. His entire family was safe.

Doctors invited him to sit at her bedside and wait until she woke up again. There were no words to describe how grateful he was for the outcome. After she woke, he would let her know that he was okay and quietly make his way back to the nursery. A plan that wouldn't get his ear bitten off for not being there during the birth. Or at least, he hoped so. Now though, pressed up against the opposite side of the room, head in his hands, Derek Morgan desperately prayed for his wife's survival. A fist formed around his heart when he realized how screwed up everything was. In an effort to keep them safe, there was a good chance he'd just gotten Savannah killed.

He had no idea how long he'd been sitting there, praying, screaming, and crying for someone, anyone to help her, save her. But in that time, he'd been walked out to the waiting room away from all of the failing machines. How he'd been able to comply, there was no telling. He could barely breathe let alone walk the short distance.

"Derek?" No matter how deep in his own head he was, the agent knew that voice better than his own name. No matter how consumed he'd always become, her words were as soft and tender as the hands that dared to hold him at his absolute worst. Instinctually, hs throat pulled forward a hefty snarl, the blonde seemingly unphased by such a display.

"What?" he snapped. At least that's how it sounded in his head. From where Garcia stood, the only word he'd been capable of in what could only be described as hours of silence came off as robotic and empty. The fire in his eyes and tone of his voice sounded nothing alike. The lack of comparison nearly broke the analyst's heart even further. Choosing to remain silent, she carefully took the empty seat beside him, hesitating for only a minute as she took his much larger hand in her own. Without thinking, he ripped his hand from hers refusing to make eye contact. "Go home," he grumbled.

"I'm fine right here," she whispered. Penelope knew that they were all forced into the most painful waiting game. This was nothing like sitting on their hands and hoping another twisted mind would strike again, just to ensure that he wouldn't. To this day, the logic was still so incredibly backwards. Tonight they were waiting on one of their own, sending hopes and prayers of every kind just to see her come out alive. Derek was a first time father and had only moments with his sweet boy before the unthinkable. There was no mistaking how torn he was. She didn't need to tap into her decade and a half of understanding Derek Morgan to know where he wanted to be.

Any father would be spending every waking minute with his new miracle, most likely the baby's mom at his side. Until Savannah was able to do just that, there was no moving the determined officer. Garcia knew better than to try but she wasn't going to just let him sit here either. At least not alone.

"She'll be okay," she murmured. The shaky whisper earned her a glare, the sight of it creasing further worry into her soft expression. "She will, Derek. They're doing everything they can."

"You don't know that," he muttered numbly. No, she didn't know that, not for sure. But she had to believe that it was true. She had to. "They're not doing enough. No one ever does enough!" The increase in volume startled her though she was quick to compose herself for him.

"Derek, look at me," she demanded gently. It was a full five minutes before he dared to comply knowing that the minute he did, she would see it. Garcia rolled her lip, guilt the only emotion he seemed capable of. "You didn't do anything wrong, my love." He had to fight the urge to cover his ears and find the tiled hospital floor again. Anything to keep her out. Anything to keep her from seeing what they both knew she'd already seen.

"I can't lose her, Penelope," he finally managed. "I can't…" Nodding slowly, she once again took his hand. It didn't take long for her to realize how unsteady his hold was. She'd only seen this level of fear a handful of times, each of them focused on those who were given the biggest pieces of his guarded heart. She'd been one of the lucky ones. Not even Carl Buford left him this afraid. Thought of the man who had robbed her baby boy of so much made everything inside of her rise up into her throat. A kiss across his knuckles and the soft sigh of resignation to her touch kept it from spilling over.

"You won't," she promised. "Nothing has put more fight in her than that sweet little baby boy waiting for his mama. She came in here with one of the most beautiful reasons to come out on the other side. That same strength will keep her here with us. As soon as she's able, she'll hold him so tightly there won't be a force on this earth…"

"Death doesn't care, Garcia," he mumbled, his voice thick as sandpaper. "God doesn't care either. He wants her bad enough, He'll take her…"

"Hey! Now look, I know you're scared. And I know you're at least twenty kinds of angry right now. With doctors, with yourself. You might even be pissed at Savannah." As screwed up as it was, she was even right about the last one. And even then, he knew he shouldn't be. None of this was his wife's fault. But still, it was her body that gave out on him. "You have to be able to put all of that into one of your boxes and kick it away. What we need right now is hope. We need to hope that she'll be okay. If you can't do that, I'll have Hotch take you home." Derek's eyes widened at her suggestion. Since when was Penelope Garcia the one calling all the shots.

"Excuse me?" Penelope nodded slowly. "You can't tell me what to do, Garcia. That's my wife in there and you better be damn sure I'm gonna stay until I know she's okay." Only partially true. Since the very beginning of their friendship, Garcia was somehow always right in her convictions. She was right here too, as much as Derek didn't want to admit it.

"You know she's right," Spencer muttered softly. How long had the kid been sitting there? Knowing how quiet and observant he'd always been, it was probably the three of them waiting from the minute she'd sat him down. For that, Derek was silently grateful. In an attempt to calm himself, he brought himself back to a time when it was really only the three of them. He had to admit that Reid's random little statistical rants were annoying as hell at first. Only weeks ago, one of his long winded speeches saved the agent's life. Even if it did take him what felt like hours just to find something to put on his burn.

And sweet little Penelope Garcia. He barely noticed her at first. Swift and quiet as a mouse. For weeks he couldn't figure out her name. As intrusive as it probably was, "baby girl" sounded a whole lot better than "Hey you there". From then on, the nickname came off his tongue as easily as water. To this day he couldn't quite figure out what it was about the blonde that made her so aware of the kind of person he was. He thought at first that it was something she'd pulled out about each of them. Time and thousands of phone calls later, he would come to understand that it was something specifically theirs, a level of knowledge and general understanding that fell just between them. Over the last dozen years, Penelope had been right about damn well everything. Fortunately, she didn't need a computer and finite hacking skills to figure him out. Tonight, that irritated him beyond measure.

"I need her to be okay," Reid. "I…Can't do this by myself." Spencer frowned, unsure where he was getting such an idea. The doctors were doing everything within their knowledge to make sure that they got the bleeding under control. They had probably gotten it figured out in the time they sat here talking to him.

"Who said you're going to do anything alone?" he mumbled. Despite his every belief in the power of science and medicine, whatever happened to Savannah, there was no way he would be raising his son alone. No one member on this team would let him try. Even Spencer Reid knew that. They had all been through far too much as a team, as a family to leave one of their own struggling.

"Kid, if she dies on me…"

"She won't," Garcia said confidently

"Baby girl, nobody knows that for sure. I know you're doing your whole blind optimism thing but..."

"Derek Morgan, you listen to me right now," she demanded. Though she hadn't screamed it at him, her tone made the grown man jump. "Everyone is going to be _fine_. Say it with me. Everyone is going to be okay. God wouldn't put her in your life only to take her away, especially after the beautiful miracle you two have just brought into this world.

Yeah…From the time he was fifteen, his relationship with God and miracles had been spotty at best. Still, he nodded, hoping like hell that Penelope Garcia would prove him wrong just one more time. So he found himself nodding, taking a grip on her hand that he'd only ever needed when discussing his terrors with Buford. The analyst barely flinched, smiling softly when she noticed that he was finally seeing it her way. In time he always did. But something about this time was different. She could see in his eyes the level of uncertainty he still held when she was so damn sure. Blind faith. Derek Morgan had come to trust her _that_ much. For the sake of her own heart, and the sake of his uncertainty she had to be right. She had to be.

A less sure hand took hold of him on the opposite side, a notion that confused the agent. Spencer Reid had never been the one to initiate touching or contact of any kind. Over time, Derek was allowed brief moments of contact but he knew better than to prolong them. The couple of hugs he'd earned were in moments when the young agent was so lost and confused (a novelty for him they all knew) he all but clung to Derek like a lifeline. He realized that now he was doing much of the same to them; the two he'd learned to love and confide in with bigger parts of himself than he'd ever imagined. Taking his pale, trembling hand in his, he found a hold on Spencer he always hoped he would never need.

"They're taking too damn long," he muttered. Spencer nodded, Garcia's face becoming grim. They were likely still fighting, trying to find the best way to make sure it didn't happen again. "It's a bleed from a C-section. Her body wasn't blown to bits. It was a gunshot would. A hole that they _fixed_. They got my son outta there. And now she's…Now she's…"

"Morgan, she's not dying," Spencer mumbled. Since when had boy genius become so optimistic? The science was right there in front of him, in front of all of them. If it was as simple as sewing her up, they'd have done it by now. A doctor would be out here to give them a progress report and he'd be able to go see his son with a clear conscience. But no, they were all glued to their seats, waiting for the words Derek already knew with sickening certainty were coming.

"I would know something by now, Reid. I'd be in the nursery holding my son. I should be happy the bastard is dead. I should be singing it from the rooftop of this hospital. I saved my family. That should be enough reason to be happy. But I'm here. I'm here just waiting for the words that will leave my son without a mother. Exactly what I was trying so hard to avoid." _Because of something that I did. Because I had to go play hero._ "And look how that turned out," he muttered, Hotch's words echoing in his head like a soundtrack to this pending hell. He wasn't even sure which was worse; watching his boss sit over his wife's motionless body because of George Foyet or knowing that he was doing very much the same thing, because of something that _he_ did.

"What?" Garcia and Reid uttered in unison.

"Nothing. Something Hotch said to me before I went out there." Penelope could tell by thee look on his face that the backstory to their boss's speech wasn't something meant to encourage Derek's reckless behaviour. And still, here he was, beating himself up over things he couldn't control. He had done his best, everything he could. The rest of it was up to doctors and nurses. The self-blame was something so completely Derek. No matter what he tied it to, the reasons he gave, the ache she felt when watching him as it took over never hurt any less.

"He'll be okay," she murmured. Morgan scowled when he realized her change in script. Was this her attempt at some kind of reverse psychology? Was she finally starting to feel it too? The thread he could barely hang onto was slipping out of his sweaty palms with every passing second. At least he had enough sense to realize it. Penelope hung onto hope until the very last moment. "That's all I said while you were out there alone in that cabin. Like a prayer, like a song, I didn't know any other words in that moment. I just hoped and prayed that you would come back to us…come back to me," she whispered hoarsely. Despite his own frame of mind, the single bead of emotion down her cheek placed a soft kiss where it landed. The brief contact made the blonde smile sadly. "And you're here….Your baby is here…"

"And she's in there," he finished. Garcia sighed squeezing his hand as her head came to rest on his shoulder. Taking in the sweet scent of her hair, he let out a soft breath, every tense muscle in his body loosing at least a fraction of its determination to keep him stiff. Kissing the top of her head, he let a single tear find its place among her golden strands. When Reid quietly cleared his throat, Derek froze, his entire body deliberately refusing to turn and face the doctor. The heavy cloud that surrounded the man was unmistakable. He could feel it in the physician's stance alone.

"Mr. Morgan…" Without so much as a thought to how they were doing it, Penelope and Spencer came around him like a protective shield. No matter what they heard, Derek was in no state of mind to hear any of it, no matter how much he needed to.

"We're his family," Reid mumbled. The surgeon nodded. Though he'd been behind OR doors for the last few hours, the way he found them left no secret to how little they had moved. Pushing past the two of them gently, Morgan met the doctor with cold dead eyes.

"We did absolutely everything we could. There was a lot of blood. Much of it was already gone by the time we got in there to assess the damage. I'm very sorry for your loss." Letting his face become completely blank, Derek barely managed a nod. As many times as they had been trained to deliver news like that, the tone the surgeon chose angered him. It was all just so cold. Absolutely no feeling whatsoever. Weren't they supposed to be led away privately for news like this? Finally able to sweep the room, he realized it was just them. Was it really so late at night? Had they been here that long?

Next to him, Derek could sense Garcia using her every strength to keep the flood of emotion at bay. For him. She was fighting like hell to keep from crying, for him. Much to his surprise, she was able to quietly thank the doctor before being the first of the trio to sit back down.

"I…I have to go. I gotta go be with my son…" he barely managed, ripping his grip from both of their hands in an attempt to stand. He barely growled when his own limbs seemed to take several moments to catch up to him, causing a delay that added to his frustration. So much effort and planning had gone into making sure his baby wouldn't grow up fatherless had somehow left him a single father and young widow. This whole thing was just a fucking disaster. Beautiful and miraculous, of course it was. But to lose her to get him? That was just wrong. So incredibly wrong.

Garcia and Reid both took him at either side, human crutches determined to keep him from hitting the floor. As the three made their way to the nursery, Morgan barely noticed the rest of the team gathered in a small group, concerned expressions drawn on each of their faces. As much as he knew he should offer them something, the young father was only able to avert his eyes, every ounce of his remaining energy reserved for the endless journey to where his son lie waiting for him.

When they finally approached the swinging door, Derek couldn't find it in him to step inside, simply watching his little boy from the window. The minute he went through it, the minute he found him and held him, he would fall apart. As much as he didn't want to, as much as he knew he shouldn't, the tears would come. Hank was only hours old and already he had seen so much of his mother in him.

His hands would one day grow to be as sturdy and sure as his father's. With time he would grow just as tall on legs that were just as determined to rid the world of its evils, if that was something he wished to pursue. Life had gifted him with a tiny person filled with so much promise for the greater good. But it had also robbed him of one of few things that made him feel completely full. As happy as he wanted to be for what he'd been given, he didn't see the right in it either. How could he truly let himself enjoy this when his wife wouldn't be by his side to do the same?

"I…I can't," he whispered. Garcia blinked, Reid stopped right in front of him with a hand already poised on the swinging door. "It's not right. I can't do this without her…" It seemed that with every word her friend spoke, the analyst's heart found smaller and smaller pieces to break itself up into. She knew he would be repeating those words to himself for the rest of his life. It took a lot for Derek to trust anyone. She had been one of a few rare cases that had taken the fast track. As pleased as she was to know that she was a special exception, understanding the rarity of it told her he would be feeling this cloud of responsibility for years to come.

"We'll wait," she said softly. Derek swallowed hard, more unsure of himself now than he ever had been. The overpowering confidence he displayed was enough to hide behind in the past. Now he couldn't even find it in him to pick up that blanket, let alone wear it. Instead he squeezed Garcia's hand with every bit of strength he managed to find. So focused on finding some kind of centre, he didn't realize his complete dismissal of Reid. The younger agent barely seemed to notice, quietly backing away while keeping his eyes between the two of them.

As well as he had come to understand Derek Morgan, there was something about the way he was with Garcia that opened doors to a completely different man. As many times as he'd fought to protect the innocent, to protect Spencer Reid himself, his natural instinct was to turn to Penelope when life came down around him. He watched as they both stepped forward with purpose and simply stood there. He would count a full ten minutes and watch it go by before his brother took so much as a step. When they finally managed to make it through the door, Spencer stood quietly at the abandoned window, watching from his safe distance. For the first time in his young life, science had failed him. Science left his friend with more broken pieces than even he could comprehend. It was in that moment that Reid vowed to do whatever he could for the safety and happiness of the small little boy, who unlike any of them, would have no memory of his mother's sacrifice.

* * *

The approach to Hank's incubator was robotic at best. As much as he ached to hold the last piece of Savannah to him and never let him go, there was a peace in the way he laid there the father dared not disturb. Having been taken from his mother's womb too soon, the baby was so incredibly small. Small and fragile and…breakable. In just the last few hours he'd already broken so many hearts. It would be cruel to be the cause for damage to anything else he loved too much.

"Hi there sweet boy," he heard Garcia whisper quietly. If Derek didn't know any better, he would say that his son knew exactly who his friend was talking to. Based on the smile that found its way across her face when he turned to face her, that had been Penelope's intention. "You're so beautiful, you know that? Your daddy's so proud of you…" The knot harboured in his chest nearly exploded in the older man's throat. There was an unexplainable sadness in the scene before him.

With the gentlest touch he'd ever seen, Garcia glided a single finger along his small stomach, the sensation making the little boy squeak in surprise. The young father found himself holding his breath, waiting in anticipation for rejection to the unfamiliar presence. The quiet hum that fell out of her mouth was practically instinct, the calm that quietly washed over him admiring Penelope with a new sense of awe. He'd been subject the soft melodic sound a few times, and only when he became practically inconsolable. Perhaps she knew that it was the only instance she was allowed to call on its "power" without being looked at strangely for it. But that was the magic in Penelope Garcia. She seemed capable of reading him better than anyone in his entire life. When Fran Morgan first met her, she began to joke that the blonde knew him better than his own mother.

Like she had done a hundred times before, Garcia spoke every word he couldn't find on Derek's behalf. The way she spoke to his son was a modified version of the exact way she spoke to his father. So far as he could tell, the tone was set aside just for him. Just for them. This one especially was reserved for healing unexplainable pain and anguish. Her sweet and careful words wrapped around them like the blanket he almost never needed. The one she gave him no matter how much he protested. "Daddy's been waiting a long time to come see you," she smiled. "We had to take care of some grown up stuff first. But now that it's all done and figured out, he's all yours."

Derek gulped. It was hardly "figured out" but his son wouldn't understand that for years to come. He watched as she picked up his son with the confidence and gentleness he'd always known her to have. There was something about watching Penelope with children, people in general really that made him more sure of his love and appreciation for her with each passing day. "He can't really say it right now but he loves you so much…More than you'll ever know. He doesn't say it to a lot of people, hardly anyone but I know…I know he'll show you just how much whenever he can…Sometimes, if you're lucky he'll say it too," she grinned. "But always remember that when he can't…he does. Your daddy always does."

Not a lot put so much emotion in his chest. Derek always prided himself in being very composed and put together. But this…Watching his best friend provide his son with the words he couldn't find worth anything took him almost completely over the invisible edge. Taking a shaking finger to his tiny temple, the agent pierced his lip, focused on finding his wife in Hank's tiny face.

"He has her eyes," he choked.

"Her softer complexion," Garcia smiled, placing a kiss on his forehead. The moment of contact made the little boy croon, reflex turning him into her breast. "Already starting to get comfortable," she chuckled. "Good thing too."

"He'll be spending a lot of time there," Derek whispered. Garcia simply nodded, pride shining like rays of sunshine through every pore.

"Of course. My job as his fairy godmother is to ensure that he is—"

"Hold up. I never said anything."

"You were supposed to say something?" she asked with questioning eyes. Derek shook his head, laughing more honestly than he had in hours. "Is there a ceremony I wasn't told about?"

"Nah," he laughed shaking his head.

"I thought that was implied," she muttered shyly.

"It is baby girl. It is…" he murmured. Even while she feigned confusion Penelope held the newborn even closer, practically daring him to deny her in the first place. Pressing a soft kiss to her temple, he sighed, breathing her in for a second dose of courage.

"Hank Spencer Morgan," she smiled. Morgan blinked. Choice of a middle name hadn't even passed his lips yet. There was no question boy genius' name was at the top of the list and most likely to happen but he'd kept that to himself.

"How'd you know?" he whispered.

"You're not that hard to figure out, honey," she smirked. Anyone could see how close the two men had gotten over the last few years. Knowing how hard it was for both of them to find that level of trust in anyone, the honour was practically expected.

"You think he'd be okay with that?"

"I think he'd love it," she smiled. "Being Henry's godfather sends him over the moon already. Knowing that this little one carries his name…"

"He'll never shut up about it," he grinned shaking his head.

"No. No he won't…"

"So I guess godfather round three isn't the best idea?" Garcia rolled her eyes.

"I think he's expecting it…"

"Not sure if that's supposed to comfort me or not…"

"He'll love it, Derek. It'll mean the world to him."

"You think?"

"I know," she mused. The agent quietly shook his head. He knew better than to fight that. When Penelope Garcia was sure of something, not a force on this earth could shake her.

"Of course you do," he muttered. "You know I love you, right?" She turned to him then, a subtle nod. She knew. Of course she knew. It was one of few things she was absolutely sure of. "I…I'm gonna need you, Penelope," he admitted. "She was supposed to help me…" he whispered.

"I'm right here, Derek. I'm right here…We're all right here."

"Yeah, I know you are."

* * *

 **A/N: Yes? No? Stay? Go? Let me know! Oh look, I rhymed! I'm very easily entertained….**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Sorry this took so long guys!**

 **Disclaimer: *See Chapter 1***

* * *

There was a shadow of irony in the peace that came in the silence shared between them. Perhaps it stemmed from the cocoon of safety and protection Garcia's very presence offered him in what can only be described as his moments of absolute despair. As a man who quite literally spent his life staring death in the face, tears were saved for the worst of his heartaches, and even then he couldn't help but feel a shame in having to let them fall. He'd known Penelope for what felt like a lifetime and somehow this familiarity made it even more important that she not see him so weak.

"Derek…" she murmured, her touch so soft he had to concentrate every available thought to keeping his gaze steady and dry. "Don't fight it, my love." Barely registering her words, his head shook in opposition. He had to fight it. His son was barely an hour old. He didn't need to know what a disaster his old man was. Garcia had to bite back a sigh. The defiance in his features was all too familiar. With each appearance these defenses made, she hated Carl Buford a little bit more. With the frequency she'd witnessed them, she wondered how it was even possible to continue digging up so much dislike for a single human being. For Penelope Garcia, "hate" and others like it were as effective as curse words. This disgrace of a man was the first of very few exceptions she made in expressing such an emotion. "You're safe," she whispered, the promise offered to him one of few things she would move heaven and Earth to make sure he understood. Two simple words, powerful enough to dismantle every defense he naturally boxed around him.

Morgan was never completely sure what she did to twist them in a way that his heart and mind finally came together to comprehend. It would likely be one of those mysteries he'd never truly make sense of. In mere seconds his emotions broke into the steady flow of a shallow dam, his vision slowly beginning to blur. In only moments his knees would hit the sterile floors, the self-assured agent more lost and confused than he had been in over thirty years. The catch of his breath resulted in a near choking sound that only served to reveal how broken he truly was.

"Let's sit down…" The suggestion lacked it usual angelic tone but he was in no condition to think very much of the stark difference. Not until he was slowly lowered to the rocking chair did he begin to make sense of the change in familiarity. Though he'd heard the speaker over a million times in his career, what usually fell out of his mouth were numbers and equations too complex for anyone to care about.

"I need you to go," he ordered, the words nowhere near as determined as he wanted them to be. It was one thing for Penelope to see him like this but her privilege (if you could even call it that) was inescapable. The woman had a way of backing him into an emotional corner where his only exit was to let her see him fall apart. He never dared to tell her how much better he felt as a result of those moments but it seemed to be a quiet agreement that they never really discuss it. But Spencer was on the far and opposite end of such a spectrum. It was an unspoken law of nature that this kind of thing just didn't happen.

"No." To say he was surprised at the fire behind such a small word would be an understatement. It took him only seconds to realize that Spencer didn't seem capable of the word in general, let alone the tone he used to stand his ground. Raising his head just enough, the agent's eyes narrowed. Spencer said nothing and instead took a hand much larger than his own between his, hoping to steady the shaking. Natural instinct ripped his hand free of the younger man's grip.

"Don't touch me," he bit, his voice low. The doctor blinked but shuffled away slowly. Derek couldn't keep from breathing a small sigh of relief, quickly wringing out his hand in hopes of washing away the invading touch. Reid was very well aware of the older man's secrets, filed under an unspoken rule that the monster of his nightmares was never really discussed. Even as he intended to respect those boundaries, he wasn't ready respect all of his wishes quite yet. Not when Morgan had paid the same contradictory courtesy only months before.

"Derek, I want you to listen to me very carefully." The agent's eyes nearly fell out of his head then, rolling hard enough to make the room spin. The lead in was one they'd all used far too much with hardened criminals to get inside their heads. "I understand that this is a very hard time for—"

"Shut up," he muttered. He didn't know the first thing about how hard this was. So far as he knew, his friend hadn't lost someone he loved in exactly this way. So far, Derek's personal count was up to two. Two more than he ever wanted to see in a lifetime. He knew what the kid was trying to do but he just needed a damn minute to pull himself together.

"Hank needs his father." As if he didn't already know that. "And that can't happen until you find a way to steady those hands." Morgan looked up curiously, expecting very different words to come out of his little brother's mouth. Until he mentioned the state of his limbs, Derek failed to realize how unsteady they were. "Now….I'm going to take your hands again…And we're going to do it together, okay?" Biting his lip, he frantically met Penelope's eye, unconsciously seeking the reassurance only she seemed able to give him.

"We're right here when you're ready," she mumbled, the newborn fast asleep in the safety of his godmother's arms. Slowly, he unfurled his hardened fists, refusing to meet his friend's gaze. When their fingers barely brushed, Derek felt his entire body stiffen, an inborn resignation to touch slowly creeping in. Only the sound of his son's steady breathing grounded him to their stark reality, the edges of his sanctuary tickling the corners of his vision.

"Derek, it's Spencer." Though he knew the words were only offered once, they seemed to echo through his subconscious. Despite never actually shaping the words, it remained an unspoken understanding as to why those promises had to exist at all. "I want to take a nice deep breath…" The agent blindly complied, every bone in his body rattled with the gust of wind that travelled through him. "Good. Again." Derek repeated the exercise, unable to do anything about the tears that found their way to the edges of his eyes. "Good. That's good. I'm going to let go and Garcia's going to slowly walk over and lay him down." When finally he did, he had to fight the automatic urge to wring out his hands.

It took him a minute to recognize the slight weight being put in his arms, every bit of emotion barely held back when he finally noticed it. His grip on Hank grew from a protective nature he'd never felt before. Hands that trembled seconds before were now more sure of the person they held than ever. This tiny person, his tiny person; born out of a love he would never get to know was a real, living thing. It was in that moment Derek Morgan swore that no man would ever ruin this for either of them. Despite being completely drawn to each and every one of his son's tiny features, he became all too aware of Reid's fading presence. If he wasn't so focused, he would make a point to ask at least one of them back, if only to keep from being completely consumed under the weight of all of this new responsibility. A responsibility he shouldered all on his own now.

No matter how many words sat ready and waiting behind his teeth, no amount of mental coaxing brought them out. He wanted so badly to say something, anything to reassure his son, especially when he let a quiet cry, finally noticing that he was no longer in the presence of a mother's touch. Instead all he could do was muster the strength to brush his fingers lightly across the baby's face hoping to quiet him. The careful sway of the wooden chair worked with his touch to coax him back to sleep.

"Hey there, little man." They came out as barely a whisper and still managed to echo so loudly against his ears. "Not sure if you figured it out yet but I'm your dad…" Whether the tears that followed those words were the result of Savannah's absence or the idea that he would ever be somebody's father, he had no idea. He concluded that it was likely a bit of both. Even though he made sure to mark the occasion with a picture, Hank would never remember her ever holding him. And even though it wasn't logical, he found himself mourning the loss of that too. "I've worked with a lot of kids but uh…I'm still not too sure about this dad thing. Not sure how good I'll be at it…"

"He's going to be amazing," Penelope whispered. And even though he wasn't quite sure he believed that, he was thankful to her for saying so.

"See, you're named after some pretty awesome dudes. One of them's a bit of a nerd but…" Upon hearing those words, the world around Spencer Reid began to fade while he tried to wrap his head around what he'd just heard. As much as he wanted to ask for some kind of confirmation, they weren't going to come out as smoothly as he wanted them to. Because even after years of working together, he still couldn't understand how Derek Morgan and himself had ever become friends. In the real world, he was almost certain he wouldn't even be approached by the "popular kid". Morgan never thought of himself in that way but labels were somehow always there and regrettably unavoidable. And still, knowing this about himself, Derek had become the older brother Spencer's mother would never be able to give him.

Even now he couldn't quite pinpoint when the shift had taken place. Or what it was about the older agent that painted him as such in Reid's eyes. Maybe it was his muscle and strength that led him to believe that. Or maybe it was in the way he managed to unravel his deepest worries and somehow make them less terrifying than they originally were. Whatever the reason for their relationship, he never thought that the baby would carry his name. The thought brought a rare sense of warmth to his heart, usually reserved for only his mother; as science didn't leave a lot of room for emotional attachment. _One more Yale application to set aside in eighteen or so years_. "Unfortunately, I was just a kid when your grandpa died. I didn't…Well…I never got the chance to ask him how to do this. I've never been somebody's dad before…So I don't know how this is gonna play out yet."

"Well…statistically speaking, a really protective brother will often become a very protective father…." Despite himself, Derek managed the smallest of smiles, Reid's familiar rhetoric enough to remind him what world he was still in. A world in which he was now saddled with the duty of caring for a life completely dependent on him. Whether he was ready to swallow it or not, he was a widowed father, who in some ways would be doing this almost entirely on his own.

"And this kind of talk is exactly why I'm not helping you with your math homework…" Behind them, Garcia chuckled, the given responsibility making the young genius smile.

"He won't be the one teaching you chess either."

"Glad you already know that. I don't have the patience for it."

"See, it's really all math."

"And that's why…" Knowing that they all felt the weight and thickness of tragedy surrounding them, Garcia watched the three of them with a sense of sadness she often tried her hardest to ignore. The loss of her own parents was not the same kind of senseless but at the very least she was given the opportunity to feel their love. It pained her more than anything to know that the sweet little boy would never know his mother's voice, let alone know the safety of being in her arms.

A soft knock turned two pairs of eyes toward the swinging door and the solemn expression on a nurse's face. Thankfully the third was too enamoured by his son to even acknowledge her presence. Garcia's heart fell even further then, no amount of genius needed to understand why she was there. Slowly stepping forward, the blonde fiddled with the hem of her top clearing her throat in preparation for news they all knew was coming.

"I'm sorry to interrupt but we need someone to identify the—" The woman had to bite back tears, praying that the woman wouldn't finish that sentence. She naturally took a step forward, fully intent on doing whatever it was she could to protect Derek from any further heartbreak. Seeing Savannah's lifeless body would surely haunt her for days following this one but alternatively it would stay with Derek forever. Penelope looked up when a light shove eased her back.

"Stay with him. I've got this," Reid whispered. Nodding slowly, she returned to her post at the open incubator, knowing that in only a few minutes, Hank would have to go back in effectively taking away her friend's only effective distraction from the pain. When the door finally closed behind them, she turned back to the quiet pair, taking a deep breath.

"Why don't we go get something to eat?" she offered cautiously. He seemed to barely notice she'd spoken, every ounce of his energy poured into the baby in his arms. He hadn't slept in hours either, though of the two concerns, food was the easiest to take care of. There wasn't much of a difference between them but getting him to try and eat was something she could do. Sleep was his decision and she knew that he would be doing everything humanly possible to avoid that.

"I'm good." The response was frighteningly hollow, the sound of it putting a new pain in her chest.

"Baby, you need to eat something…"

"I'm not hungry," he repeated. Penelope frowned. An empty stomach that was filled to the brim with grief leaving no room for nourishment. It wouldn't taste like anything either but if he at least tried to keep something down, she could breathe easier. How could he think about food at a time like this? Savannah was gone. The woman he dared to give his heart to had been taken from him, practically ripped from his arms. To even think about anything else was selfish and physically impossible. So was moving. If he dared to entertain it, his legs wouldn't even get him out the door.

Garcia fell to her knees, the position she was now in reminding her of the hundreds of times roles were reversed between them. Rubbing his arms quietly, she pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. Derek offered virtually no response to the gesture, the grip on his son intensifying. Daring to loosen it just slightly, she sighed, wisps of blonde hair fanning across her face.

"I know he needs you, angelfish but more than that he needs you to take care of yourself. It's not going to taste very good but I need you to do it anyway. I need you to try. For that sweet little boy I need you to try." There it was again. The tone she seemed to pull out whenever she demanded to cut through the silence. The fact that she dangled his son in front of him was an incentive she never had to use before but if it got him out of this chair, she would keep it tucked away for extreme circumstances like this one.

"I can't leave him," he whispered. Even as his voice never faltered, the emotion behind his conviction was a perfect cut across her heart.

"You've got a couple of choices, love. You and I can do it together or the nurses will come in here and tell you to." He didn't intend for such a reaction but he felt his eyes widen at the idea that a stranger's hands would be going anywhere near his baby.

"No. They can't touch him." Penelope sighed, the fire in his eyes one that broke her heart into even smaller pieces.

"They won't hurt him, Derek," she mumbled quietly. She didn't know that. Neither of them knew that for sure. What he did know was that no pair of unfamiliar hands were going to come near his son.

"You and me," he muttered. If anyone was going to put their hands anywhere near his baby, it would be the hands of people he knew. People he could turn his back to and trust that nothing would happen to him.

"You and me what, sugar?"

"Move him. I don't want them to." Rolling her lip, she reluctantly nodded. Garcia wasn't quite sure how that would pan out but if it would get him up, he at least had to believe it would work that way. The differences were subtle but something about his tone told her that this was more than a little bit of separation anxiety. Whether it was the grief or the exercise he'd done with Reid, something made him more defensive than ever.

"Okay."

"We have to tell them." From what she could tell, Derek was still very much himself but at the same time, she couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him act this way. Still, she nodded, wondering what the doctors would think when they heard such a request. Bringing him down into the cot seemed to be done in slow motion, as if he was delaying the absence of his weight for as long as he could. When Derek finally managed to release him, an arm instinctively came around his friend's waist; an action he hoped would keep his hands busy while they were gone.

"You're going to be a good daddy," she mumbled. He absently nodded, the words barely an echo. Good god he hoped so. More than that he hoped Hank wouldn't think less of him for having to leave him there alone. Logically he knew they would only be gone a few minutes but every second seemed to stretch out in front of him already and they were barely halfway down the hall.

"You're the good mama," he muttered. He wasn't even aware of those words until a pair of curious eyes darted toward him.

"Derek…" she whispered. Moments later realization left him feeling sick. The words usually saved for flirtatious games had suddenly lost all their humour. A clear indication that she wasn't even in the room. Looking over at him with softer eyes, Penelope could tell it wasn't necessarily her he was speaking to either. The words came without any real emotion, save for the cloudy expression he'd quickly adopted. "Sweetheart…." The reply was barely a whisper, a single word laced with more emotion than she was even allowed to have flow through her right then. _His pain is my pain_ she thought; an unspoken understanding as best friends that they would always share the burden together. It was true that she hadn't lost Savannah in the same way but the gaping hole in her best friend's chest was just as much hers to bear.

Hoping to find familiar solace in her gaze, Morgan became all too aware of the effect of his words. His single safe space was fighting her every nerve to keep the tears from spilling over, a thumb naturally pressing against her cheek in an attempt to spare her the hurt.

"I'm sorry," he choked.

"No need to be sorry, baby boy," she smiled, though her light was dimmed significantly.

"She should be here…"

"I know…"

"She never got to hold him…" Penelope kept quiet about the fact that she had but the notion was just the same. It wasn't long enough. "I…That's my fault…"

"Oh no, Derek of course it's not…" Though she understood completely where he saw differently she wasn't going to let him carry that for the rest of all of their lives. He met her with vacant eyes, the emptiness in them almost challenging her to say otherwise. "Derek, what happened to her was an accident…"

"They went after her because of me," he said, his voice flat. "Because of my job, my son grows up without a mother." History was repeating itself in the cruelest of ways. This version of the story was so much uglier.

"Your job did not take her from you, honey. When they delivered the baby there was just too much blood. It happens. It doesn't happen often but it happens. "

"Penelope..."

"No. There is a big difference and I need you to recognize it. You did not take Savannah's life. You have to understand that." It was a truth she herself had taken years to understand in respect to her own parents. The big difference was, given the proper means, she could go back and change the actions that lead to their end. As much as it broke her heart, Morgan could not. Having learned him as well as she had over the years, the guilt was going to eat him alive for years and as much as she wanted to do something about it, she couldn't be the one to stop it.

"He'll never know…"

"Of course he will. Because you're going to tell him stories about how wonderful she was. And when he's ready, he'll know the sacrifice she made for him."

"She shouldn't have had to do anything."

"We don't get to decide when He takes us. That's the part that doesn't make sense to anyone for a long time. But I have to believe that everything—"

"There is no reason, baby girl. Not for this." Even though she refused to see it that way, she nodded, hoping her sense of agreement might calm him enough. In all of their conversation, Derek hadn't even realized they had sat down to eat. He couldn't for the life of him recall the taste of it, nor did he particularly want to. He must have been picking at his tray in an attempt to keep his own ands from shaking too hard. Next to him, Garcia looked satisfied enough. "I…I need to hold him…"

Garcia had to hide just how unsure of that she was. A premature baby needed at least a few hours to fully develop under the warming lamps. To Derek though, that didn't seem to matter. She had to admit that just being around him made the father just a little bit calmer. Maybe if they had him moved to a room…She made a mental note to run that by one of the nursing staff when they returned to the nursery.

Swinging back through the door, the agent barely noticed Reid standing there nervously, seeming to wait for…something. Where had he gone anyway? One minute he was reassuring Hank that his dad wasn't a complete dumbass and the next he had disappeared. If he had all his faculties in place, Derek could just read it off of him but as it was, he could barely find his own feet right then.

"You should get some rest," he pointed out. The shaking of his head came without thinking, his fingers itching to get back to his baby. "Morgan, you can barely keep your eyes open…"

"My eyes are fine, kid. I gotta get back to him."

"Angel, maybe a few minutes might not be such a bad idea…" Garcia agreed cautiously.

"Both of you need to back the hell off," he snapped. Even though he could see him trying to hide it, Derek saw Reid flinch, naturally shuffling back and out of his way. The blonde remained silent, rubbing his arm slowly. "Garcia, I said back off." Slowly she retracted her touch, though her eyes remained soft. Both followed him back inside, the new father's shoulders going stiff when he noted a nurse blocking his line of sight. "You and me," he muttered. Reid blinked, confused with the mysterious exchange.

"Go sit. I'll talk to her."

"I don't want them to." Reluctantly allowing Reid to help him back to the rocking chair, he strained his hearing to make sure their conversation went accordingly.

"Excuse me…I uh…I was wondering if you might be able to…do us a favour. I'll admit it's a bit of an odd thing to ask…" The nurse glanced between Penelope and the baby slowly, panning between them in an attempt to make connections.

"Are you Mom?" Even though it was faded, Morgan could hear the smile in the woman's voice, the light in it making his chest hurt.

"Uh, I was wondering if maybe…You see, Dad's got a bit of a situation. He's…a little nervous about other people…" The young woman looked on confused. She was paid to do exactly this. Even as she understood the nervousness that came with being a new parent, there was nothing to be nervous about when it came to hospital staff. All they did was take care of new babies. The woman had been working here for ten years and by now new how to change a diaper with her eyes closed. "There's…no question you're wonderful at your job. It's just…He's very particular." Why Derek was so particular she didn't have to know.

"Are you suggesting that I can't do my job?" she asked. If she was offended, Garcia noted that she hid it very well.

"Oh no, no I'm not saying that at all. It's just…You see his wife just…"

"Yes, I'm very deeply sorry for your loss," she said solemnly.

"Th-Thank you. Gi-Given the circumstances…He's asked that…" The older woman knit her brows together, more confused by the delayed conversation than ever.

"I don't want you touching my kid." Penelope rolled her lip nervously, reprimand for his choice of words on the edge of her tongue. "You killed my wife. You're not taking my kid too."

"Derek." The agent ignored the warning in the blonde's expression, firm on his choice of words. "You took out the bullet but you couldn't perform a basic C-Section. What kind of doctors are you?"

"Morgan, stand down," Reid muttered. The new father glared, his mouth a firm line. "Sheryl hasn't done anything. She didn't operate. She's here to help you with Hank."

"I don't need her help," he muttered. "You and me and the kid. Nobody else touches my baby." Sheryl scowled, hugging the chart to her chest.

"Sir, I understand that you're grieving but I need you to let me do my job."

"And I need to do mine," he shot back. "I'm his father and I need you to leave." The nurse under scrutiny scoffed, backing away slowly with a hardened expression directed at Derek. Penelope on her part stood in disbelief. In all her years, she'd never seen him confront anyone in such a way.

"I hope you know that I'll be taking this to my supervisor."

"Good. I'd like to have a little talk with him." Upon the quiet exit of the disgruntled woman, Garcia and Reid both met him with new waves of surprise.

"What the hell was that?" she muttered.

"I already told you. I don't want them touching him."

"Derek, you can't do that…"

"She's not an unsub you can intimidate into submission," Reid pointed out. "She hasn't even done anything. Someone's still going to have to come in and monitor him."

"They can do that without touching him," he muttered. Garcia kept any further question to herself, already sure she knew the answer. Not that she wouldn't be happy to take care of him, that wasn't thee concern. If someone was willing to show them, she would learn. Derek's hostility was her point of deep worry for her.

"Honey, that's not what he's saying…I understand you're grieving. We all are. But that nurse hasn't done anything wrong. You can't tear her apart for something she hasn't done."

"I don't want them touching my baby. What part of that is hard to understand?" _All of it_. Derek was not a hostile person. If anything he was a man with a heart that nearly tore a hole in his chest simply because it was too big to fit. Then again, she had never seen him mourn real loss before. Sighing quietly, she shook her head. "I'll see what I can find out…"

"Thanks." Her heels offered a quiet click on her way back over to him, her warm hands cradling his face to keep his attention. Pressing a kiss to his forehead she let it linger.

"He's not going anywhere, angelfish. I promise you that," her own words bringing about the sudden realization. "They're not going to take him from you. I won't let them." Though the exchange made complete grammatical sense, Reid still couldn't quite make sense of the hidden context. Or maybe it was more along the lines that he could and simply didn't want to think about what it meant for his friend. This seemed to be a secret between himself and Garcia and he knew better than to get in the middle of it.

Derek watched his son in the tiny box, his gaze unwavering. No matter how much he often believed those words, not even Garcia could promise him that. Life had taught him that things could change in a matter of seconds. Savannah was the clearest of reminders to the very idea. The world spun on with or without her. As much as he understood the way of the universe, how was it that his had suddenly grown so much dimmer? How was he supposed to go on with his heart ripped to shreds? At fifteen he'd had his heart ripped out and stomped on repeatedly, his dignity obliterated. But this…This was a pain he had no words for. Losing his father should have been able to give him some measure of understanding but it really didn't. Because at the end of the day, the loving bond he had with his father was completely different to the one he shared with his wife. And now he was expected to walk the Earth without either of them by his side.

"What the hell am I going to do?" he whispered.

* * *

 **A/N: A bit of a slow start, I know but it should pick up in the next chapter!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: THANK GOODNESS! Finally, my lovely muses have returned. I'm so sorry this one took forever. Hopefully the abundance of wonderfulness/** **pain** **are enough to keep me from getting yelled at.**

 **Disclaimer: *See Chapter 1***

* * *

The constant contortion taking form in his chest was an ironic comfort now. Several weeks had passed and already the foreign feeling was becoming one of comfort to him. A sensation that once brought tears to his eyes was now one that managed to bring him a kind of peace. He couldn't help but wonder if it was all due to the years invested in putting away the most prolific murders in history. Hours spent looking into the personification of evil. It only made sense that an ache like this would be something to smile about. Emptiness he understood for loss was an emotion his father taught him at an impossibly young age. But ten and forty something left room for a great deal of growth and understanding.

The latter was an ever constant struggle. No amount of lives lost prepared him for something like this. One minute Savannah is giving birth to the most precious of human beings and the next, she was lying cold and lifeless in a box, the only notion of change indicated by the black shirt and dress pants he was now dressed in. How they found a way onto his body he hadn't the slightest idea. So far as Derek could tell, his every muscle remained frozen, keeping him tied to sheets that now took the shape of his virtually motionless body. It was a wonder he even managed to wake up this morning, the last time food touched his lips unknown.

Penelope had likely forced it, floating in and out of his room periodically. If it wasn't for the fact that she was almost always joined by a small bit of something, he had to wonder if she was simply checking for signs of life. As much as her constant presence irritated him; as much as he wanted to be left the hell alone, somewhere in the back of his mind he had to remind himself that even though she hardly talked about it, she'd lost just as much at a much younger age. That wasn't to say that he banished her completely. In fact, half the time he willed himself to take hold of her wrist, quiet in his request for her to stay. And even though she never smiled, Garcia quietly curled up beside him, the two often falling asleep together leaving Reid to keep Hank entertained. Sometimes he let himself cry. Other times he wound her golden locks around his fingers, thanking his lucky stars for the woman curled up on his bare chest.

His eyes were now dry as sandpaper, the natural tendency to blink made impossible. For a man who almost never cried, rivers had taken form along his cheeks for days. As exhausted as he was from lack of sleep, an electrical charge of awareness kept him wide awake. While part of him hoped to find his wife in dreams, an even louder voice demanded consciousness. Hypervigilance was the only thing that would keep his baby safe. At any moment the same man who dared to take his wife could….Just the thought rose bile in his throat, his pulse quickening on pure instinct. Despite the frigid winter in his veins, the sweat of his palms forced a tightened grip on a door to a world he wished to escape. He wouldn't have to be there for long, surrounded by countless signs of life. Derek only needed to be reassured of one. A fragile existence that had no grasp on just how much he'd already lost. Afterwards, he would shrink back in behind these walls and none would be wiser.

The minute the door eased open, every sound silenced to mere echoes were now only heightened to hushed murmurs, most coming from the mouths of people he hardly recognized. Electric blues that almost always demanded a comfortable smile across his face were shining with their own sense of loss. Derek knew that it had less to do with the absence of his wife and more to do with the quiet cloud that seemed to follow his every move. It frightened him to know just how easily Garcia could read him. Daily he thanked the universe for gifting him a woman like her. Today was surely no exception. Especially when every word he wished to speak stayed trapped in his throat, their escape followed by feelings that would easily take over every part of him.

The shaky sigh that escaped him rattled Derek to his core, the scent of her hair washing over him like a shield. He almost expected her to say something but instead she only pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, and the weight of his son into his arms. Rubbing his arm quietly, Penelope began the quiet glide across the room, stopped only by a shaky grip that turned her attention.

"Don't…." he pleaded, his voice distorted from lack of proper use. "Please…." Nodding silently, warm fingers wrapped around his in the only other subtlety she could think to give him.

"We'll do this together," she murmured. Derek swallowed hard, shaking his head. "They're here for you, baby boy."

"No…."

"Yes they are. We've been looking for you all day. They all have their respects to—"

"They're here for them," he corrected. "Helps thm look better." As accusing as they were, the words were true for most. He could count less than a dozen attendees who truly gave a damn about how he was feeling.

"Fran's been asking for you," she said cautiously. His mother. Of course she would be. If anyone understood the agony ripping at his chest it would be the woman who years before had suffered the loss of her own love. As comfortable as it was to know this, Hank Morgan Sr. died a hero. Savannah had just…died. Though his legs could barely carry him, he stumbled his way to the kitchen, the one place he knew she was always most comfortable.

"Mommy…" Barely able to hear himself call out to her, the woman turned, wrapping her arms around her son without hesitation. As many times as she'd heard the term slip out of her daughters' mouths, Derek seemed to have forgotten the word all together. Not since he was ten years old had she heard it fall out of his mouth. His voice sounded terrifyingly small in that moment, making her wish that she had it in her to restore it to the confidence of the grown man she'd raised.

Derek's head almost immediately settled on her shoulder, the fact that he was almost two heads taller than she was hardly relevant. He let her warmth come around him slowly, the sensation an easy opposition to the cold he invited. As Fran's only son, he was probably one of few boys who barely blinked when peers called him a mama's boy. Perhaps because the bond with his mother was the only one any of them had a clear enough picture of anymore. In that very moment, he embraced the title more so than he probably ever had.

"I'm so sorry, baby." Morgan nodded, Hank's soft breath a gentle reminder against his neck. His wife wasn't _gone_ but for a moment gone enough that he let his chest tighten, the explosion against his ribs enough to rob him of his breath.

"Hurts…"

"Yes it does," she murmured.

"When does it stop?" he almost pleaded. As much as her heart already broke for her son, his question created even smaller pieces.

"I wish I could tell you, sweetheart." He allowed himself a few more minutes of his mother's comforts before daring to pull away slowly, the baby's soft whimper flashing, the smallest hint of happiness through his body. Allowing even that felt like betrayal. But there was something about it that left the moment completely out of his control. If there was any comfort in this day at all it was that Hank would never remember this, with no recollection of the blade that tore at his father's lungs. "We're all here for you," she whispered.

"I know…" he nodded, his tone void of the life he was somehow still living. Part of him wondered where his sisters were among the throng of people who were only really here because they had to be. The other was grateful to be left alone, at least for the moment. He knew he had hands to shake, people to thank, most of which would be gone in no more than five minutes' time, their good deed for the day done. And he would do it. Not because he believed a word that they said but because it was…expected. All he had to do was push through empty words and he would finally be left alone to mourn.

The minute he stepped out into the living room, condolences started to filter out. Though he knew they deserved to be looked in the eye, he couldn't be bothered. Every last one of them would leave and go home to their families while his had been torn to pieces. Thankfully, they hardly seemed to notice. The grip on each one of their hands lasted a few short seconds before they pulled away slowly, a sadness between him and the stranger no amount of eye contact needed to express. He'd lost count of the number of people who tried (and often failed) to offer their comforts. Derek was beginning to realize that the lack of importance he placed on their attempts to be human had more to do with the empty words that they found than the idea that he hardly knew them. Because in his experience, words were only as good as the actions behind them.

He didn't know how long Spencer had been standing there but the sense of familiarity that washed over him was enough to loosen the rock-hard tension in his shoulders. In this moment he was more grateful for his silence than ever before. Morgan knew in his heart that Reid meant no harm by his tangents but the idea that he was willing to stand quietly beside him spoke more about the agent's loyalty than any wealth of knowledge ever could. His guests had likely formed a long line, patiently waiting their turn to say what they had to because the various shades and textures to hands kept coming without pause. His responses were equally as robotic, his entire body swimming with a pain he dared not show.

Thankfully Hank was quick to fall asleep as the minute he stepped out of the kitchen, Derek's emotions completely lost on the newborn. He must've gone through at least half of them before the baby so much as moved, a soft cooing floating to his ear. The change in posture served as a soft warning, the next hand to rest in his palm one he'd grown more accustomed to than he realized. Without hesitation he gripped it tightly, letting their touch linger in prolonging the hold he had on it.

"Derek…." The agent blinked, finally pulling his gaze up to meet the eyes it belonged to. Only four people had ever said his name so gently, each of them distinct from the others. Hers was a tone he'd memorized in his sleep.

"Emily…" In that moment the idea that she'd come from so far away to say anything to him was completely lost on the new widow. Prentiss was as good as a dream then. He'd certainly done enough sleeping to make imagining her a possibility. But her hands were warm. Her hold was sure. Even while knowing he should, he didn't really care about those who followed. After squeezing his shoulder gently, Emily wordlessly fell in line at his other side, a gesture he didn't even think to ask for.

"These ones you're gonna wanna look at," she whispered. He doubted that. Even so, he found himself trying to find their gazes. JJ…Will….their newest edition fast asleep in his mother's arms. Hotch and Beth. He found himself wondering where each of their sons had gone, concluding that they were probably scattered among the strangers.

"Uncle Derek." Henry was quieter than he'd ever been, the glasses he wore fogged up at the corners.

"Hey little man," he mumbled trying not to choke on his words as he sank to his level.

"I…I'm sorry for your loss." The agent managed a small smile, the words he'd been given a comfortable surprise to hear. Whether his parents had taught him to say that or his godfather was slowly rubbing off on him he didn't know. Either way he nodded squeezing the little boy's shoulder.

"Thank you." Behind him stood Jack, his posture one of a boy who had already been there one too many times. At nearly twelve years old, he was at an age where hugs were few far between. For Derek he seemed to make an exception, stepping forward and wrapping his arms tightly around his uncle, letting himself linger as the two shared a moment of mutual understanding in loss. "She'd be real proud of you," he murmured.

"Hope so..." he mumbled. "If uh…If you ever wanna…you know, talk about it and stuff…"

"I know who to call," he nodded. As quickly as he appeared, the preteen was gone, likely off to find comfort in the long tables of untouched food.

"She was a good woman." Words he probably heard a thousand times today but these ones were laced with a knowing that only his mother seemed to have. Meeting Rossi's eyes, he bobbed his head expectantly, knowing that the older man who eased the team with his own brand of humour brought an equally present sincerity to his offering. He barely caught the folded check that slipped into his coat pocket, narrowing his gaze.

"What's this?" he muttered.

"With everything else going on….Expenses shouldn't be…." Derek scowled shaking his head with more confidence than he'd been able to find in the last few weeks.

"I don't want your money, Rossi. I can cover my own wife's…"

"I know." Both let the last word remain suspended and unspoken. "I'd like to help in any way I can." Derek could think of at least a dozen other ways the older man could have done that, the least of which was making him a charity case.

"I don't need your charity," he said evenly. Even while he said the words, the folded piece of paper continued to burn a hole in the fabric of his clothes. The fact that Emily had taken hold of his free hand kept it there, almost as if the two had planned it this way.

"Consider it a gift," he corrected. The agent rolled his eyes, a hardy scoff slipping past his lips. Just because he looked at the man as a father didn't mean it was suddenly his job to "ease the pain". Savannah's absence was one that stung like fucking hell. Nothing was ever going to take that away, least of all large amounts of money. Even though he knew it was coming from a good place, in a gesture that was unique to who Dave Rossi was, it made him feel sick. Beyond being raised to "make his own way", the numbers etched on this slip of paper were going toward what felt like an elimination of the woman he loved. His expression was hard as he dared to look the older man in the eye, determined to stare him down, hopefully enough that the money would fall back into his hands. Instead, all he could find were words he'd already exhausted to the point of nonexistence.

"Thank you…I'll pay you back every penny," he mumbled. The senior agent shook his head. Money going any which way should be one of the last things on his mind

"Just love that little boy." Morgan nodded carefully, an accusation of doubt balancing on the tip of his tongue. Did they really think he would do anything less than that? From then on faces and voices were nothing more than a blur, Sarah having replaced Spencer at some point during the many exchanges.

"I can take him," she offered already slowly peeling the baby from his shoulder.

"No," he almost snapped. "I've got it." His older sister blinked, looking him over with concern he knew all too well. "I can hold my own kid."

"I know you can," she said softly. "I was going to change him and bring him right back to you." A sudden sense of panic came over him then, the thought of anyone but him….anyone but them doing anything to his son making his blood simmer under his skin. "Maybe get him something to eat."

"I…I would rather you didn't," he said slowly. His mother's brows shot straight up, making the fact that they sat on Sarah's face almost enough to comply.

"D…." When he refused to relinquish the baby, his sister shrank away slowly, crestfallen at the idea of being denied her nephew, the pang made worse by the emptiness in her little brother's expression.

"I can do it," he muttered. Emily's hand gripped his forearm lightly, his attention pivoting without a moment's hesitation.

"You need to sit down," she warned.

"I'm fine," he countered harshly, the change in his words startling Hank from any dream he might've been having. The sound snapped his head right back, his neck almost giving under the instant pressure. "I'm sorry," he murmured kissing the baby's forehead in an attempt to soothe him. Nothing was going to quiet his own pain, at least not today. But if he could provide his son with at least a moment of comfort, he wasn't completely incompetent.

"Morgan, you're shaking," Emily whispered. "Give your sister the baby for a minute."

"I can take care of my own kid," he repeated gripping his son harder despite the tremble he found in his limbs.

"Do I have to go find Garcia?" Derek looked up then, the raven-haired woman giving him a warning he hadn't hear in years. Every defense he'd built in the last five minutes began to slip as the name rolled off her tongue.

"No." Prentiss sighed, a pain shining through her eyes that he hadn't ever seen before. Concern? Maybe. But Emily had always shown concern in her own hardened ways.

"Morgan please…" A dozen rebuttals were ready to fire then. He could tell Emily had seen the fight in him and yet, little by little, his eyes shined with reluctant resolve.

"Nobody else touches him, you hear me?" Even as she remained skeptical, his friend nodded, already scanning the room for a familiar head of blonde hair. Among the many strangers, he followed his friend as her figure grew smaller with every step. Eventually able to blink, she'd somehow disappeared, her absence pressing him up against the wall once more, this one closer to the kitchen….Closer to his mother. Whether or not she reappeared didn't matter as much as being generally closer. Such was a familiar pattern between them that often went without explaining.

While Fran found peace in cooking large meals, Derek couldn't even conjure up the thought of food. As much as seeing his mother would give him comfort, the smells would leave him wanting to vomit. Over the last few days he'd done so much of that there was hardly anything left of the usually buff man. A small part of him had expected Fran to say something about how thin he'd gotten. An even larger part was grateful as hell that she'd kept her mouth shut. It was already hard enough to wrap his head around the fact that his clothes hardly seemed to fit him anymore. Though he wasn't a stick, his bones were certainly beginning to peek through.

The voices around him were slowly starting to merge, most of the bodies, as he'd expected, long gone. All that seemed to remain were members of his true family, each giving him the wide berth needed to grieve. They hadn't quite gone home yet but they weren't floating around attempting to comfort him either. Knowing they were there, knowing that even in his pain they were willing to share a space was enough to make a lump rise in Morgan's throat.

"Y'all don't have to stay," he whispered, knowing that only he could really hear himself. Whiel his eyes scanned the much smaller room, he scaled the wall, quick to find the floor and a place to rest his head, the new position bringing on a new batch of tears he couldn't hide even if he wanted to.

Coming back down the stairs, Emily scanned the room, her usually kept together composure cracking slightly at the sight of Derek finally giving into exhaustion. Sliding down beside him, she let their knees touch, Morgan finally able to see that her attire seemed blacker than usual. Despite his best efforts a shallow laugh bubbled to his lips.

"Who died?" he muttered dryly. Prentiss gave him a half smile, the positioning of her cheek freakishly natural as it came to rest against his son's face. _Does she have a baby now too?_ Not until that very moment did his eyes find a way to take in the presence and absence of two very different people. _That should be Savannah_ he thought, the idea forcing him to fight back his own trapped emotion.

"You don't have to do that," she whispered. His brow went up in question making Emily shake her head. "Hide," she added simply. "You've lost someone you loved. You need to let yourself feel it….process it."

"I am." The agent shook her head, remembering all too well his earlier hostility.

"You're angry," she pointed out.

"Course I'm angry," he shot back, wondering how in the world she expected anything less than that.

"Good."

" _Good_? How is that good?" Watching Hank's tiny hand subconsciously take hold of her collar in his sleep was the only thing capable of softening his edge.

"Because it's normal," she said softly. Morgan scoffed.

"What do you expect?"

"Nothing. I just want you to feel it," she mumbled. Derek rolled his eyes. Of all people, Prentiss was the one telling him to "feel things". The one who kept just as many secrets, most dedicated to roping in her emotions.

"Oh I'm feeling it, alright," he growled. They must have been sitting there in ten minutes of absolute silence before he even opened his mouth again, his eyes ablaze with new fire. "I'm feeling angry. Real angry." Emily nodded. "They couldn't even deliver a baby."

"This one?" she asked brushing her lips lightly across his tiny temple. He couldn't help but be filled with genuine surprise. She still had time to be a smartass? Or was it more that he'd never known Prentiss to be so nurturing. Sure they'd learned about Declan but that didn't necessarily speak to her tendencies toward…That was general concern for a child.

"Don't…"

"Morgan, he's right here."

"His mother's dead. She's dead 'cause they killed her." That wasn't exactly right but for the moment she allowed it. What Savannah had done was more along the lines of unintended sacrifice.

"And Montolo almost killed you," she said carefully. Derek glared, his eyes on the edge of accusing. Ready words would have tumbled from his mouth if he didn't see the knowing ghost in her own. "Just like Doyle almost killed me."

"Ian Doyle tortured you."

"And left me to die." Derek shivered, the memory one of the easiest and most painful to recall. "And I did. JJ wasn't lying when she said I died in there."

"Prentiss…"

"Ian Doyle held a damn gun to my head. But that's not what killed me. That man killed me a long time ago….A big part of me. So believe me when I tell you that I understand. I understand that Chazz left a hole in your heart. I know that despite that hole, you are still here. You are still able to hold your son in your arms. I may have just met him but I know those aren't his father's eyes."

"What are you saying, Emily?"

"Chazz Montolo ripped your life apart. But you live. You live so that this little boy still has his daddy."

"His mama is dead. I was gonna tell Hotch that I quit the team…"

"You what?"

"I lost my dad, Emily. Doing exactly what we do. And he was just a street cop…I didn't want that for him. I was gonna do this right."

"So what now?"

"I…I don't know," he said honestly. Weeks ago he was ready to turn in his badge. In a lot of ways he still was. All it took was one talk with Hotch and he was…free. He could work construction, build dreams for other families. Maybe that would help ease the fact that his had been so blatantly destroyed. But Montolo was still out there. His wife's murderer still walked these streets. "He's still out there." Prentiss nodded. "I don't want him going anywhere near my son."

"You're not gonna let that happen."

"Damn right I'm not gonna let it happen. I'll kill him." The gravity of the conversation didn't stop a small smile of pride from coming across her face then.

"Without the hardware you just end up in jail. What happens to him then?"

"I don't know, Prentiss. All I know is I'm tired. You saw what happened to Gideon. He just…It ws all just too much."

"Alright look, I've got all the respect in the world for that man. He did his time. He gave what he had t o give. It wore him down. It took the fire out of his eyes."

"What?"

"The fire. The one that gets us in our cars at 2 in the morning. The one that keeps us up for days. Long enough to catch the son of a bitch. Derek, I'm not telling you what to do but….I don't think you're done quite yet. If I'm wrong, I'll be supervising every single renovation—".

"I don't renovate…I restore." She only readily ignored him.

"If I'm right…I'll be right behind you, gun loaded and ready." Derek couldn't for the life of him remember the last time he'd heard her talk like this. Sure, he'd initiated various conversations like it, but most were directed at her. This one was for him to hear. And he did. Every ounce of sincerity she often kept in her glances and subtle touches finally brought to words.

"Prentiss, you're not even here anymore." Though she did well to hide it, Morgan noted the slightest micro-expression, the combination of words making him feel guilty. The woman had just taken the first flight out of London to be there for him. She probably hadn't even gotten a decent sleep yet either. "That's not what I meant."

"I know what you meant," she said.

"How are you gonna do that from Interpol?" He softly chuckled at Emily's attempt to look offended. Or maybe she really was, if only a little.

"Who dragged JJ's ass back from the desert?"

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry."

"Damn right you're sorry," the agent muttered, a light-hearted glint in her eyes he didn't even know he missed as much as he did until that very moment.

"What I'm saying is, you don't have to fly all the way out here to—"

"…save your ass? I don't know if you got this yet but I'm pretty sure that's exactly what's happening right now."

"You sound just like Garcia…."

"I'll take that as a compliment," she smirked.

"Sorry Prentiss but there's only one of her."

"I know," she said softly. "But I think that right now, you need an extra shot or two of common sense and that's what I'm here to do. Derek, whatever you need from me…"

"I know," he said, only so sure of those promises from a select few people in his life.

"And this time, I'm not on an hourglass. It was a one-way. Just in case it took a little bit longer than anticipated to get through that thick skull," she joked.

"Emily, you can't just give up your job to—"

"I'm not…There's bad guys here too."

Prentiss…"

"Morgan…" The tone alone silenced him quickly. Only three women seemed able to shut him up fast enough. One had taken over his kitchen. The other was nowhere to be found. The third carefully laced the fingers on her free hand with his in a gesture so reminiscent of hours before that he couldn't help but think he was actually fast asleep in his room.

"I missed you, Emily."

"So I heard," she smirked. When Hank began to stir at her shoulder, he already sat with hands outstretched. "Come to join the party?" she asked, with a tenderness that pulled at the agent's mangled heart.

"There's not a whole lot going on, bud. You can go back to sleeping if you want." The infant hardly acknowledged his father, taking a much greater interest in simply looking in on the exchange.

"And miss all the food? That's not any Morgan I know." Derek snorted watching his son look on in wide-eyed fascination at the woman who held him.

"He won't be on solid foods for a while yet. He won't miss much."

"I'm sure he'll be asleep in a minute. Pretty sure he just wants to make sure you're okay."

"More like checking to see if you've killed me yet."

"If I wanted to kill you I could do that easily. And quietly," she corrected.

"Right. He uh…He might be looking for something in a bit actually. Not sure what kind of schedule Garcia's got him on but judging by the fact that she's not looming over us yet I think we're still safe. He's pretty relaxed about being handed to people, which I know makes the fight I had with Sarah look really stupid. I just….Certain hands….For right now….certain hands."

"Derek, she's your sister."

"I know, I know just…"

"Alright. We'll go find Garcia." Whether or not it was meant to, the exclusive club stung just a little. Derek already kept a tight enough circle, for the moment extended to his child. But if the baby took after his father, she would be—

"He likes you," Morgan whispered. Not that either of them could really tell absolutely if that was true. For now it was enough that he wasn't screaming in her arms.

"Doesn't everybody?" she teased.

"Morgans are very particular…"

"Oh really?" I never noticed.

"Well…certain hands…" he mumbled.

"I know."

"Just don't go starting world war 3 over him, alright. You two and pretty boy. For now that's it."

"Alright. What if your mom wants to—"

"Mama will usually just take him. Can't say no to her. I can bitch at Sarah and Des as much as I want."

"Whatever you say, Morgan."

* * *

 **A/N: :D**


	4. Chapter 4

**Discriminate** **: *See Chapter 1***

* * *

When the last of his guests quietly trickled out (each giving him one last apology he really didn't need to hear), Derek pressed the majority of his worn out frame against the door. If it wasn't for the fact that in just twelve hours he would be burying his wife, he would be doing everything he could to avoid most of these faces. The only ones who seemed to actually put meaning to the words they said had at one point walked in the shoes he wore now. If he was to take any measure of comfort from any of this it was that. He was not alone. And yet, he couldn't help but hope that at any moment Savannah's key was going to turn in the door, letting out a familiar sigh of exhaustion he couldn't help but chuckle at occasionally.

He almost dared to laugh now, this time without humour. One of the best in her field as an emergency room nurse and she could do nothing to save her own life. How appropriate. Days before a vengeful man dared to hold him at gunpoint; a position he'd put others in for the sake of justice. But it was an entirely different feeling to be on the other side of that gun. And somehow, at the end of it all, he walked away with his life. He had been given the right to see tomorrow. Such had been the story for as long as he had been alive.

As thankful as he was to be spared, he couldn't keep from hating God for leaving him here. As was his usual conflict, Derek had one foot on two very different sides of a fine line. As a kid, it never made one bit of sense to him. Why would something so merciful allow a man to do what he did? Why would someone so giving take from him the one woman he dared to love with all that he had? How was he to keep breathing when everything he loved was being taken from him one tragedy at a time? Barely able to carry his stride, Morgan managed to find his way back to his room, nearly jumping out of his skin when he noticed she was waiting for him.

"Prentiss," he mumbled, the acknowledgement lacking its usual teasing edge. Noticing she was alone, his chest filled with familiar panic. "Where is he?" Noting his expression, Emily rested her hands quietly in her lap.

"He's talking chess strategy with Uncle Reid," she laughed. The answer helped to quiet his blood at least a little. "Well, really he's doing the talking. Hank's doing a lot of listening. Probably sleeping too." Watching the momentary flash of a smile in his eyes, Emily stretched one across her mouth for the both of them.

"What are doing here?" He watched her shrug silently, hesitant invitation in her eyes. For him to join her. Despite wanting nothing more than to be alone in his grief, his body fell like heavy stones against a bed he couldn't for the life of him remember making. Garcia had likely snuck in here when he wasn't around in an attempt to make the space look more livable.

"Mrs. Haze has been looking for you all day," she said quietly. Mention of his mother in law put a firm fist in his throat. While he had lost a wife, and Hank is mother, Mr. and Mrs. Haze had lost their only child. Even with the ache that fed at his bones with the almost sudden realization, he was selfishly glad they didn't stop to talk to him. He was the reason their daughter was dead. How was he supposed to look them in the eye? How was he supposed to mourn when there was a very good chance they quietly blamed them for her death.

"I know," he mumbled even though he made a conscious effort not to. His few words were heavy and trying as they barely managed to excape his throat. Emily rolled her lip, barely able to hold back a few careful words she was ready to give him about her friend's eyes. In all the years they'd worked together, Morgan never deliberately avoided her like this. Given the circumstances she expected nothing less but it still stung just enough.

"Morgan, they were in that line up," she pointed out. Yeah, he knew that to, though part of him expected them to be receiving their own party line of people. Swallowing hard, he wrung his own hands, stretching them out to ease the stiffness of his knuckles. Whether it was thanks to years of partnership or basic profiling, Derek heard the words that never seemed to make it out of her mouth.

"I can't look at them," he confessed. "I can't tell them I'm sorry. Not yet. I know they blame me for getting her killed."

"Derek, what happened to Savannah was not your fault." He rolled his eyes with a scoff of disgust. "It wasn't. He's the one who shot her."

"Because of me," he muttered. Prentiss shook her head, daring to take his hand quietly. Even while knowing her well-placed intentions, he swiftly ripped his hand away. He didn't deserve comfort. Not for this. Not when he was the reason his family had lost so much. Though that was somewhat true, there was a piece to this that her friend was missing almost completely.

"Morgan, they stopped the bleeding," she whispered. Finally, his gaze found hers, a wrinkled brow raised in utter confusion. Who the hell told her anything about what happened at the hospital?

"Garcia called me while you were out there going after him. Girl was more frantic than I'd ever seen her. Pretty sure the only thing that took her over the edge was….the cabin," she said, her own voice catching unexpectedly. Their friend had placed a call then too, every painful word spilling out of her at a pace that only Penelope seemed to manage. Hearing the blonde in such a high level of distress, Prentiss nearly dropped everything to catch the first flight out; much like she had done today. "She was so scared…We all were."

"I know," he managed. He himself was absolutely terrified. "Emily, the only thing that got me out of that place was Savannah." Granted, what saved him was a dream sequence but in this case it might as well be about the same as having her there in person. "I imagined a life with her. I pictured Hank….and his little sister." Now that the woman who would one day give him that had no more days left, he wondered just how much that dream was going to change. "They burned me alive, Prentiss. They set me on fire and all I could think about was getting home to her. All I could hear was anger and frustration. Cause I wasn't home for dinner. Again. It was probably gonna be take out. Usually always is, 'cause she can't make popcorn without burning it," he laughed. "But I was going to miss it."

"You didn't though…"

"Garcia said I was out for three days or something like that, so yeah, I missed it. After that, I swore to her I wasn't ever going to be late for her again. With what we do, it wasn't gonna stick. And I hated myself for that. What kinda life was I gonna give my kid if I wasn't even going to be there for it?"

"Derek, what we do is…It's not exactly a 9 to 5." Something they both knew but for some reason she felt the need to remind him, if for no other reason than to remind hhim that saving people made a difference. Even when they couldn't save everyone. "She was unpredictable too. Garcia says that—"

"That's what made it work. I know." He almost managed a smile at the idea that Penelope kept Emily so up to date on all of their lives. "But what she does…did never got her shot. Her life was never in danger until me."

To say that Emily was surprised to hear any of this would be an understatement. The one factor that made their friendship so operational was their shared desire to stay incredibly private. Whether it was his state of mourning or simply pouring over with thoughts and feelings he tried so hard to keep to himself, Derek was finally trying to have a full conversation. The fact that it was her and not someone like Garcia or his mother left her curious. "Honestly, I don't even know if it was him or not. The point is, I had at least five different versions of it. In just about all of 'em she was the one doing all the work. I was never home on time. The job always came first. Same as it's always been. Can't tell you the number of times I tried to break up with her. Just so I could….spare her the absent husband. My dad had screwed up hours too but, in a lot of ways it was safer. They both worked their asses off but I knew who they were. I had a mom and dad."

Considering the fact that this was the first time he'd really talked all day, Prentiss kept to herself just how scattered his thoughts were. Seeing as she was finally being allowed inside, she wasn't about to point out that he was all over the map. "Now I've got to figure out how to be both and I don't know how. It's not enough that my dad isn't here to teach me anything…"

"Your father taught you plenty," she corrected.

"Nah, I'm 'good' because of my mama. We're all 'good' cause she pulled double duty without breaking a damn sweat. But she had Auntie to lean on. When this is all over, everybody goes back to Chicago. Garcia and Reid go back to work. At some point you're going back to Europe…" Emily blinked. This was the first time…ever she'd heard him talk like this. For a man who was usually able to see a light at the end of the tunnel, he seemed to be missing what was right in front of him.

"Penelope has been here since everything happened, Derek." Again he nodded, not at all surprised that his friend hadn't so much as left the house for more than groceries. "And I can promise you that until you know where you're going, she's not going anywhere. I'm sure you could try and make her but she's not very good at taking directions…."

"She really should go home," he stated. Prentiss quietly shook her head. No amount of repetition was going to send the blonde anywhere and they both knew it. "Garcia shouldn't be putting her life on hold for me." Emily smirked, biting her tongue at the gentle hypocrisy of such a statement.

"That's funny, 'cause _I_ remember someone gluing his ass to her couch, even though she had full detail right outside her door."

"Penelope had been shot. That's different," he mumbled, his heart in his throat at the idea that he had been a few inches shy of losing his best friend.

"Is it?" she whispered. "Morgan, I've seen you drop anything and everything for her. Why wouldn't she do the very same for you?" Derek shrugged. He wasn't sure how to distinguish the two but they _were_ different. They were.

"Because Garcia got better," he finally said. "She came back. Savannah won't. My wife is dead." No matter how many times he dared to say it, they somehow became harder and harder to swallow.

"It hurts like hell right now. I get that. But you're not doing this alone. If you really think you are, think about this. Reid has slept on your couch for about two weeks now. Has he ever done that before?" Derek thought about it for a moment before slowly shaking his head.

"For a few days when he found out about his mom but….I think that's it." Emily nodded, daring to brush careful fingers along his shoulder. "And…you're here," he whispered. "But I…" The truth was, he really didn't know how to be on this side of the equation. All his life he managed to extend hands he didn't have to the people around him. That was the way he and his sisters had been raised. When the coin was flipped, he was left with no idea how to go about any of it. "Honestly, I don't know how to do this," he muttered, his voice trembling despite a conscious effort to hide it.

"Do what?"

"Help…" he confessed. "Growing up I….I took care of them, you know? Mom never specifically said that but…I knew. Dad was gone and it was going to be my job. I was the man. I take that to work too," he admitted. "I don't mean to but it's…It's…."

"It's who you are, Derek. It's why you kick down so many doors. That and…Well, Reid just doesn't have the same effect," she shirked. At that, Derek managed a small smile of his own. "You've devoted your life to this. You keep saying that your dad's not here to teach you anything but…You wear the badge because this is who you were meant to be. You were born to make people feel good," she whispered. Derek rolled his lip, recalling words eerily similar from not too long ago. "You go out there and you make people feel safe. Your father did the same thing. Training can teach us strategy and basic protocol but…what makes you good at your job is….It's inside of you. You don't _have_ to give Reid dating advice—"

"Yeah, I do."

"You don't _have_ to call Garcia six times a day while we're out there." Yes he did. As much as he cared for the others, Penelope offered a bright light in all of the darkness that almost always surrounded them. Without those phone calls, without those little moments, he wouldn't be able to do this job at all. Seeing his change in expression, she quickly corrected herself. "I can pick up a phone just as easily as you can. So can Hotch. Reid too, even though I'm sure she could go without the statistical probabilities he always has ready for us. And you certainly didn't have to be in that warehouse."

"Damn right I had to be there," he almost snapped, remembering all too well the feeling of Emily's warm hands going ice cold in his own. If he dared to think about it without risking being physically sick, he could take a minute to recall her pulse and how it slowly faded right in front of him. "I wasn't going to let you die alone. Nobody deserves to die alone…."

"Do you see where I'm going with this?" Even though he could cling to fragments of it to make the clearest picture, he wasn't sure he _deserved_ it. "You've done everything for this family. The three of us especially. It's time that we give a little bit of that back. I know you don't want it. I know you feel like you don't deserve it." Most of the latter comment was based on her own personal experience but it applied either way. Looking at Derek was a lot like looking into a mirror. The concept wasn't one they took the time to talk about but it seemed to be an unspoken understanding between them. "But you've got it. Whenever you need it, when you're ready for it….you've got it." No matter how thankful he was to hear that, to know it, there was still a part of his important circle she'd missed.

"Emily, she died alone…." he choked. "They kicked me out of the room and…she died alone. There were doctors there, sure. But they didn't know her. They didn't love her. Not like I did. And when you love someone…you're supposed to protect them. I failed her. Over and over and over again I failed Savannah. How am I supposed to live with that? How do I look her father in the eye and tell him how sorry I am? How am I supposed to hug her mom without all of this…."

"Guilt?" Again he bobbed his head slowly, finally able to put a word to the feeling that seemed to be eating him from the inside out in the last two weeks. "Morgan, there is no reason to feel guilty. Not for that. Your job did not kill your wife. Montollo did. He had a choice. And just like every other monster out there, he chose wrong. But that's not on you."

"Emily, he came after me…." Prentiss sighed running a hand over her face in frustration.

"Ian Doyle came after me," she countered. "He would've gone after all of you, after Declan if I hadn't…" she trailed, squeezing his hand more tightly than she intended. "But I am not the reason he killed so many people. It's not my fault he became a criminal."

"The two aren't even related," he pointed out. "The man wanted me dead. And he knew that in order to get to me he'd have to take out the one person who…And he did."

"Derek, your prints aren't on that gun. Savannah's parents aren't going to blame _you_ for what happened to their daughter. Savannah was a grown woman who made her own choices. One of those was the decision she made to be with you. And right now, I don't think anyone's in a position to point fingers or place blame. The only one doing that right now is you. You missed the opportunity to share a moment with your mother in law because you were too busy spinning circles in your head to see anything else. In all their pain, they looked for you. They both did. And they understand that you're not ready. But when you are…. They are going to hug you…and love you, because you made their daughter happy. In the little time you had with her, you made her happy." Despite how logical all of this sounded, the level of good advice he was getting sounded nothing like the Emily he knew.

"Who are you and what have you done with Prentiss?" The woman in question smirked. "You're not supposed to be the one giving me a lecture on freeing up my conscience."

"I've got a little bit of extra time on my hands. My point is I think you should maybe call them. You don't have to talk about anything. Not yet. But at least call them. Let her make sure you're taking care of yourself. I know it's a lie but…"

"It hurts to do just about anything right now, Em. I haven't seen my son in days…And that right there makes me the useless father I'm trying so hard not to be." Emily grimaced. "I….Her eyes," he whispered. "I can't look at my own son because I…I'm just going to see her…"

"Well, I'm not exactly a parent or anything but uh, in this case I think it might be a good thing. It means that, even from….wherever she is, she's making sure you don't do something stupid." Derek laughed quietly, still not sure what he believed in anymore. He'd been to hell and back again more often than he thought any man should be. The people he chose to trust as completely as he did could be counted on one hand. If she really was….looking in on him, he hoped she knew just how much he missed her. "When's the last time you took a shower?" she asked gently. He couldn't remember that at all. His choice to remain silent gave her all the answer she needed. Quietly pulling herself up from the foot of the bed, she extended her hand, paitently waiting for him to take the hint. When he finally did, her smile broadened. "And while you do that, I'm going to go save your son."

"From what? He's okay. As long as he's with one of you he's good."

"He's with Reid, remember?" Derek scowled, that little bit of information completely forgotten in the midst of their impromptu conversation "Unless you wanna be the father of a Spencer Reid 2.0, I'm going to go ahead and rescue him."

"Shooting myself in the face would be more fun than that…."

"That's what I thought. Now, go do your thing. Penelope's got something out there for you when you're ready." No matter how kind the gesture, Morgan's stomach turned at the very idea of food. "If you're not gonna touch it just….make an appearance. Fran's been in the kitchen all day. It's Hell's Kitchen in there with the two of them trying to work around each other."

"Garcia doesn't cook when she's stressed. She drinks. Wine. Lots of wine."

"Not today she hasn't. The baby kind of put the brakes on that. You might wanna come out and free her for a few minutes so she can do that. She's been….on edge. More so than usual…" Derek frowned, a new wave of guilt washing over him at the thought of every one of them spinning circles over him. As Emily prepared to leave, he quietly cleared his throat.

"Mom gave me a check…"

"I know," she mumbled, both of them knowing that he wasn't in fact referring to his own mother in this instance. "You know that's his way of helping." David Rossi didn't exactly go around flaunting his large sums of money. He didn't make any big secret about it though either.

"I'd have preferred him just giving me a bottle of scotch," Derek mumbled. "I'd have a better use for it. I'm not sure what the hell I'm supposed to do with five grand." Emily tried to keep her mouth from falling wide open, the actual amount he'd been given a bit of a surprise. When she failed, he nodded. "I'm not a charity case he can just throw money at."

"Morgan, two hours ago you were talking about quitting your job. I'm not sure if you're still thinking of doing that but…I don't think you're emotionally—"

"Don't," he snapped. "I can figure out Savannah's funeral. I've got the money." Pulling away from the door left slightly ajar, Emily stepped in closer, a slow sigh expelled from her lips when she finally faced him.

"I'm just saying. Right now…you shouldn't have to worry about stuff like that. What you should be thinking about is Hank. Once you have him figured out, the rest of it is…."

"It's a lot of money, Emily. Money he just…. _gave_ to me. I bust my ass for everything I bring in."

"We all do, Morgan. But when something like this happens….I think, all you can really do is…"

"I already said thank you," he mumbled, anticipating her next few words already. "But it still doesn't sit right with me." Prentiss shook her head, the smallest smile coming across her lips. Much like herself, Derek Morgan was simply too proud. She couldn't help but admire him for that. Today though, it frustrated her all the same.

"Then leave it at that. If I remember right, the beaurau gave a nice chunk of change to ALS after…"

"That's different," he muttered. "This came out of his own pocket. For no reason."

"Morgan, just say thank you…" she sighed. "Going at this isn't going to change the fact that he gave it to you. He wants to lighten the load. That's why we're all here. Whether you want them or not…It's what families do. I don't have to tell you that. I know it's hard for you to be on the other side of this but that's where you are right now. And until you aren't….we're gonna be here." He couldn't help but wish they weren't. If anything, it was an indication of just how far he had fallen. "I can hop the next flight to London if you really want. But I'd still be calling you to make sure things were going okay."

"I know," he sighed. "I just…I don't how to do this…"

"We know," she mumbled lightly rolling her eyes. "Just….say—"

"Thank you…" The appreciation came out more quietly than he expected but the light shine in her eyes told him he'd been heard.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" Derek rolled his lip realizing just how foreign the words felt in his mouth. He had thanked over a thousand people for various things in life but the reason for this one was still new to him.

"It actually was," he admitted. Emily smacked him lightly, quick to turn on her heel if and when he decided to retaliate. "You really wanna help me? Go rescue my kid." As much as they all poked fun at the younger agent, he noticed that Reid had been overly cautious when it came to handling Hank on his own. Maybe part of it had to do with the fact that he hadn't actually held a baby before Henry and even that was years ago. Whatever the case, his son wasn't in any immediate danger. He wasn't at the age where he was actually able to retain anything yet. That was an entirely different adventure, too far down the road to worry about just yet. "And Prentiss?" Turning her head slightly, she raised a curious brow. "Don't ever profile me again."

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you all os much for your continued support with this story**


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